


Hazard Pay

by Heronfem



Series: Bad Company [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is proud of the body he rebuilt, Dean just doesn't get it, Jealous Castiel, M/M, Prostitution, Sam has a thing for El Dorado, The place not the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's dragged Dean out of hell and put his body back together, but for some strange reason can't stop the man from believing that whoring himself out is the only option for money now.  </p>
<p>Understandably, he's a bit upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hazard Pay

So Dean went to Hell. It was a distinctly unpleasant place, where he spent months being ripped apart, put back together, torn apart again, and eventually learning how to do the tearing extremely efficiently. He had every intention of going darkside and was well on his way to becoming a full blown demon. He was Alastair’s pet project, he took to hurting things naturally, he was a Bad Person all around- It was _hell_. He got the picture, alright? He’d given up and given in.

And then an angel had to go and drag him up out of the dark and back into the light.

Everything changed.

Hell, honestly, hadn’t been that bad. He’d been resigned to his fate there, knew that he wasn’t getting out. He’d killed too many of their people to be allowed any sort of deal, and he dealt with that by knowing that as long as Alastair was working him over, he wasn’t working anyone else over. Of course, what really broke him was when the man had taken apart a younger college girl in front of him, but that was another matter entirely.

The world? The world now was _weird_.

Some things stayed the same though. Money was a need, the Impala still guzzled gas (honestly, he swore that he was the one personally responsible for keeping Big Oil in business), and food was more expensive than ever. Sam had taken a few odd jobs to get by, but now Dean was back, and he needed money fast.

So Dean did what Dean did best.

He smiled like an angel with devilish intentions, and pulled people into bed.

/\/\

Despite common belief, Castiel really hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to specific humans for a good few millennia. There were other things to be done, after all, than watch the life of each little person on the planet, each of his cousins, so to speak. (They were all connected, one way or another.) He’d had mountains to shape, people to influence, fights to settle. He didn’t have time to sit still and take in the tiny breaths of their lives.

He’d spent a good deal of time protecting Joan of Arc, though. She’d been tough and strong and incredibly beautiful. He’d loved her presence, and sometimes went to speak to her in her heaven, when he had the time. She and Anna were always very close. She’d been the last of his particular favorites, and he’d resigned himself to basic guarding of the Earth for quite a long time.

Then, of course, came the Apocalypse, because they couldn’t save the Righteous Man fast enough. Castiel took it the hardest. He’d been the one in charge of the mission, and he had failed. The Righteous Man had been his responsibility, and he’d failed him.

When Dean got out and began to hunt for his brother and adoptive father, Castiel followed him, curious. After Dean had pulled himself out of the ground and looked around he’d spent a good five minutes crying. He was adjusting incredibly fast to sunlight he hadn’t seen for nearly 40 years and yet it was still odd to see him stumbling along. In Hell he’d moved so gracefully, sure of himself and easy in his not-body. Here, he seemed unsure of himself, not quite comfortable in his skin. Castiel wondered if he’d somehow forgotten some vital part that made up the body, but settled his feathers as he realized that all was well. Dean was just coming back into his own, that was all.

He followed him into the abandoned gas station, watching curiously as Dean examined his body. He struggled to stay quiet, excited at the realization that this was the first time Dean had seen his real body in forty years, and eventually couldn’t.

“Do you like it?” he asked anxiously. “I used your own old bones to build you back up.”

Glass shattered, and Castiel jumped, startled as Dean careened down, clutching at his ears. Obviously terrified, the man bolted for the salt, and Castiel, flustered, said hastily, “Please calm down, Dean, I just want to talk to you!”

Fifteen minutes later, Dean was bolting down the highway, and Castiel sighed in exasperation, following him.

/\/\

After they’d managed to patch things together, and Castiel had admitted his fears to Dean following Samhain’s bad-tempered arrival, things evened out a bit. There was no more exploding glass on account of the fact he had Jimmy’s voice to use now (he had been watching the man ever since he came crying to the Lord in a church after having sex with another man. They had grown rather close, even if Jimmy was a bit exasperated about the constantly getting stabbed thing), and all in all the world was doing alright despite its possible doom and destruction.

And then Dean had to go and bring up the money problem.

Castiel _understood_ money. He could handle quantum physics; he could get the concept of small pieces of vaguely precious metals and fancy woven cloth. 

What he didn’t understand were the lengths that some people would go to get it.

Like what Dean was doing, right this moment, as he stared, stunned and invisible from across the room.

He’d let himself be pinned down by a man not nearly so strong or so well built as himself, and was moaning wantonly, head tipped back in faked enjoyment. Castiel knew his body more intimately than even the one he inhabited, and he struggled to keep himself from ripping the man off of the body he’d so lovingly put back together. This was wrong. No one should be doing that to the Righteous Man, no one should be allowed to touch him with anything short of reverence. His wings fluttered behind him, a show of his agitation, and he knew he was caught as Dean’s eyes snapped to them and the shadow he’d unintentionally cast on the wall. Silently cursing himself for being so foolish, he made the shadow disappear, but Dean’s eyes fixed on the spot where he was. He felt trapped, and squirmed a bit as the man climaxed into Dean’s body, struggling to keep his anger contained.

Dean brought himself off quick when the man rolled off of him, and Castiel politely averted his eyes, uncomfortable with the whole scenario and still enraged that this man had had the nerve to touch the man he’d rebuilt on his own. Now he understood why Dean had been so upset about the music box Sam had attached to the Impala- he’d rebuilt her, and to have something so foreign attached was wrong.

The man left, and Castiel appeared, letting his anger and disappointment show. Dean glared at him as he yanked on his pants.

“What the hell, Cas?” he demanded. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I did not rip out of Hell’s clutches for you to whore yourself out!” Castiel snarled. “I did not rebuild you, I did not remake you for you to be handled like that by a person who does not care for you.”

“You might have remade me, but you don’t control or own me!” Dean snapped back, grabbing up his shirt. “I do what I have to for my family. Consider it hazard pay!”

He stormed out the door, and Castiel listened to the dull rumble of the Impala, frowning.

/\/\

Hazard pay. 

It took a while of communing with the internet before Castiel really understood what Dean had meant. When he figured it out, he popped himself off to Paris and perched on the Eiffel Tower for a while, thinking it over. Hazard pay, hmm.

Perhaps, if Dean had more money he would stop this. He didn’t want any more people exchanging sex with Dean for money, after all. So…how to get Dean money.

/\/\

The bag was heavy by human standards, but he carried it with ease, pleased with himself. Dean and Sam were holed up in some sad little hotel for a night, and he didn’t feel too bad about popping in. The two of them were both far too tired to be out and about that night.

Sam promptly fell off his bed as he did so, yelping as his back hit the bedside table. Dean shot to his feet, glaring.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, scowling. Castiel’s heart ached as he remembered forming the muscles in that face, the tiny details he placed on the skin.

“I brought you something,” he said hesitantly, proffering it. “Consider it hazard pay.”

Dean looked as though he’d been slapped in the face, and Castiel tossed the bag to the bed. It landed heavily, and Dean slowly pushed it open as Sam scrambled up, looking like an eager puppy.

Castiel remembered the first dog, and he thought that Sam would have gotten along well with it. They were both so enthusiastic to please, and it confused him that Sam, so excitable and in awe of him and his kind had ended up the vessel of Lucifer. Hesitantly, still unsure why he would even ever talk to him, he said, “My apologies for startling you. Is your back alright?”

Sam’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. “It’ll be fine, just a bruise.”

Castiel frowned, crossing the room in a few strides to touch his forehead. Sam staggered back as Grace washed through him, fixing the bruises and cuts he’d suffered, including a long scratch he’d had on the back of his hand. Awed, he flopped onto the bed, staring up at Castiel, eyes wide.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wished to,” Castiel said shortly, and looked at Dean. The man hadn’t moved, still gaping at the contents of the bag. “Does all seem to be in order, Dean?”

Dean made a choking noise. “Cas, you…”

“Is something amiss?”

Dean gingerly lifted out a nugget of gold. “Did you bring us gold?”

“Yes,” Castiel said simply. “I merely melted down some relics of what you know as El Dorado.”

Sam made a squeaking noise that might have been horror. “You melted down artifacts from El Dorado?”

Castiel turned to him, puzzled. “Well, yes,” he said, baffled by Sam’s shock. “They were hardly serving any purpose, given that the inhabitants are long dead.”

The noise Sam let out at that was something akin to the sound of a tortured water buffalo.

Dean carefully set the gold down, eyes wide. “Cas, there’s gotta be a good eight chunks of gold in there. There’s no way we can take this.”

“Why not?” Castiel’s brow furrowed in frustration. “I could hardly steal money from a bank for you, this was the best I could come up with.”

“Cas, no one is ever going to let us pawn that,” Dean said, prodding at the bag only to wince and shake his hand, clearly having jabbed a bit too hard. “It’s too much in one lump.”

Huffing in annoyance, Castiel waved his hand, and Dean stared as the gold became necklaces, rings, bracelets, and paperweights. “There. That should be acceptable.”

Sam went over and pulled out a necklace, whimpering. “The lost treasure of El Dorado,” he moaned, staring at it in horror. “And it’s become a tacky necklace.”

“A tacky necklace we can sell,” Dean said beaming. “Stop bitching and start looking up pawn shops.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean slumped a bit, obviously a bit ashamed of how quickly he’d disregarded Castiel’s gift. “I’d like a word,” he said coolly. “Out of earshot.”

/\/\

“Will you STOP THAT!” Dean yelped as Castiel deposited him a mile or so away on a nice park bench. The night was pleasant, but no children were out and about. “It’s worse than flying, I swear.”

Castiel just gave him a look, and Dean sighed, settling down onto the bench. They sat for a good three or four minutes in silence before Dean finally said, surly, “I guess you want me to stop.”

“Yes.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead, and said softly, “It’s not that easy, Cas.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You have the money, you can afford it.” Dean sighed again, and Castiel looked over at him, eyebrows furrowing. “You still don’t believe that you deserved to be saved, and this is how you’re choosing to punish yourself?” he demanded. “Is that what this is?”

Dean buried his face in his hands, and said quietly, “I’ve just…I’ve been doing this for a long time, Cas, it’s not an easy habit to break.”

“Break it,” he ordered, rising. “Otherwise you’ll start suspiciously having your clients disappear.”

Dean gaped at him. “You can’t just kill people!”

Castiel stared at him in exasperation. “Who said anything about killing?”

As he reached out to touch Dean’s head, he muttered, “But maiming isn’t out of the question.”

“Cas!”


End file.
